The Anniversary
by Zellarest
Summary: It has been ten years since the end of the second wizarding war and the death of Harry Potter. With that time gone, the tenth anniversary has come. Ginny had never attended the ceremonies honoring the occasion before, but after a patron us from her mother, she reconsiders. / AU!


For the ninth round of the QLFC.

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Ten years. That was how much time had since passed after the end of the second war of the wizarding world. When in the advent of the brightest season, bodies fallen limp to the ground, just mere children with mighty burdens resting on bending, breaking shoulders, were dragged away, covered with thin white sheets. One body sat still as death's unwavering hand, which gripped tight onto those it took. Underneath the quaint white sheet draped over scraped, bruised, beatened skin and closed eyes, resting on messy black hair and hiding a conspicuous lightning bolt scar, lay their precious Chosen One.

Though they had snatched up the victory right from underneath where Voldemort would have had a nose, the losses weighed down heavily on them all. Lives lost at the expense of a better time, for those who had left long before then, for the greater good.

Ever since that day the wizarding community honored all those lost with an extravagant, yet tasteful, gathering. Ten years appeared to be meaningful to them, since they were arranging a momentous 'surprise' to celebrate the occasion.

Ginny hated all of it.

On the morning of the anniversary Ginny found herself entangled in bed sheets, red hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. Light filtered in through the shoddy shades placed over the windows, which were cracked or otherwise damaged in several areas. With a groan she took refuge from reality under the covers. Not that avoiding everything would get her anywhere. She knew that, but still stubbornly refused to accept it.

After the fourth patronus desperately urging her from bed, Ginny tore back the sheets and what was left of the thick duvet and dragged her feet over the rest of it, strewn haphazardly across the creaky hardwood. Numbly she made a path out of the bedroom and took the brief journey down the crusty hallway with stained walls and cracking paint. Floorboards squeaked noisily along the way.

In not a minute's time, she arrived in the cramped quarters that functioned as her kitchen. The refrigerator stirred little in her. With no hesitation in her gait she strolled straight past it and snatched up a mug chipped at the handle. Even if the fridge did hold food, she hadn't the appetite for anything. Not even a big, chocolate, double fudge-stuffed cake. In all honesty, her stomach churned unpleasantly at the thought.

Just as her wand began expelling the glorious dark brown liquid, a being composed of cerulean blue mist galloped in through the wall to her left and stopped abruptly five feet from the counter. Immediately Ginny recognized it as her mother's patronus.

Having grown increasingly weary of the incessant messages, Ginny did not appreciate the thing that stood hovering above dishes carelessly discarded. So she snapped, "What now?"

Of course, the almost ethereal being was less than sentient, and therefore did not react to her lashing out. It merely stared blankly at her for a few moments until emitting a message. It was steady but soft, firm but comforting, and it took only a heartbeat for Ginny to recognize it as her mother.

"Ginerva," she began. "Your father and I have agreed to begin the ceremony without you. A spot will be reserved for you if you still wish to come and speak, which I hope you'll consider." Then her voice lost some of its steadiness and quavered slightly as she went on, "Please. I know he- Harry- would have wanted you to come. For all of us."

Then the patronus fell silent and flickered for a moment before dissipated entirely, leaving Ginny completely alone in her dingy apartment.

.,.,.

Clacking echos of shoes against cobblestone faltered slightly as she swept past. Clad in not much else besides pin-striped pyjamas and a tattered jacket, Ginny couldn't be surprised when old women with crinkled eyes and hands gripped around tiny purses puckered their lips as if having swallowed a particularly sour lemon. Apparating had thrown her and her stomach into a tizzy as it was. It took everything in her not to lash out at them. There were more important matters that demanded her attention.

Landing several blocks away hadn't helped matters. By the time she arrived at the location secured for the previous gathering, sh was clutching her stomach and gasping for breath.

"I'm... here... don't... start..." she rasped.

The crowd parted, guests being pushed clumsily aside with but a few shoves. Once the crowd got the idea and Ginny straightened while slowly regaining her senses, an older woman dressed in varying grays and black stepped out of the crowd. Red hair, teary eyes, and a trembling lower lip; it was her mother.

Immediately she engulfed Ginny in a hug. She spoke into Ginny's shoulder, her voice thick and muffled. "Ginny! Oh my dear, you're in bad shape. I'm so glad you came, we all need you here."

Her father smiled and patted her on the shoulder sympathetically. Ginny weakly returned the smile.


End file.
